Reunion
by Lyra Ngalia
Summary: The first steps of healing can't be taken alone. A missing-year Helo/Sharon fic written for Kindreds' "Objectify Sharon" Ficathon Challenge.


**Reunion**

Helo felt as if a colony of butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach as his feet carried him down the familiar path t

Helo felt as if a colony of butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach as his feet carried him down the familiar path to Sharon's cell. The latest batch of transfers down to New Caprica had just been approved, so the corridors of Galactica were emptier than they had been for months, a condition that allowed Helo to make his way without running into or knocking down anybody. Once within sight of the familiar hatch and the Marine stationed outside, Helo stopped, suddenly aware of how momentous this occasion was.

His eyes fell to the ground, checking his shoes for scuffs and the legs of his uniform for dirt. He turned the book in his hand nervously and looked up again to find the Marine on duty watching him, a hint of a smile on her lips. Helo sighed, realizing just how ridiculous he must look, but he couldn't help it. This was the first time Admiral Adama had relaxed the guards posted around Sharon. The first time Helo had been given permission to enter the cell for no purpose but to see Sharon. He had managed to get a book, one of the few left in existence, as a present to commemorate the occasion, and he flipped the volume in his hands again, lost in thought.

"She's waiting, sir," the Marine said, her voice quiet, when Helo paused again, paces from the door.

"Thanks." The butterflies in his stomach made a concerted effort to migrate out of his stomach through his throat, and Helo swallowed hard. Why was this so _hard_? It shouldn't be; he should want to run into that room, to sweep Sharon into his arms. And yet here he was, standing outside the hatch like some stupid nugget while the Marine on duty laughed at him. Taking a deep breath, Helo swung the door open, stepping into the familiar confines beyond.

Sharon sat at her cot, hands in her lap, while the door of the cell stood ajar, a silent testament to the growing trust between herself and the admiral. At the sound of Helo's entry, she raised her head, hair swaying gently as it framed her face. She said nothing, but her eyes followed him as he approached, stopping at the open door. Helo swallowed hard as his shaking hand knocked at the doorframe. "Hey," he said, "may I come in?"

A slow smile blossomed on Sharon's face, and Helo felt some of the doubt and nervousness melt away at the sight. "Yes," she answered, rising from the cot to meet him. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but within seconds he was inside the little room, and Sharon was in his arms. He felt her slim frame tremble against him and he tightened his arms around her, unable to do anything except murmur her name as if it were a prayer.

They held each other for a long moment, reveling in a simple touch long denied. "Sharon, Sharon, Sharon," Helo heard himself whisper against her hair. "I've missed you so much."

She pulled away first, stepping back so that she could meet his eyes. He saw tears in hers and reached up to brush them away, but she took his hand, leading him over to the bed. As they neared it, he felt something change in her demeanor, a tightening of the muscles in her neck, a shadow of fear around her lips, and he cursed Helena Cain again with every fiber in his being. "I'll take the chair," Helo said, gently extracting his hand from hers as he took the extra steps to get the chair and bring it in front of the bed. The seat allowed him to look at Sharon, yet stay at arm's length.

"I'm sorry, Helo," Sharon whispered, sinking down onto the thin mattress. "I'm sorry." She looked so dejected and broken that Helo wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms again, to soothe away the terrors that had haunted her with words of love, to make her whole again. But he did nothing, knowing that their recovery was going to be a long, slow road, but one they could now take together.

"I brought you a present," Helo opted to say, keeping his voice light. He held out the book he'd brought, the embossed words _Across the Wine Dark Sea_ worn but still legible on the cover. "I know you probably don't believe any of it, the stuff about the Lords of Kobol," he said, "but it's still a good read; it was one of my favorites back in school. Poetry and all that." He laughed nervously when she said nothing. "Look at me, bringing poetry. Maybe next time I'll try to find some flowers and chocolates."

Sharon looked up again, a tremulous smile at her lips as a little laugh escaped at his words. "Thank you," she said, reaching for the book. Her right hand lingered against his left as she took the gift, and Helo fought against the urge to take her hand again, to enclose the slim little thing in his own and hold on for dear life. Still, the brief voluntary contact warmed Helo's soul more than he thought possible, and he made a silent promise to himself that he would do anything to have her smile at him again, to touch him without fear in her eyes. "Maybe you can read me your favorite out of here," she added as she opened the volume, flipping through the pages.

Helo's heart soared at her tentative overture. "If I can't find flowers to bring next time, I'll bring a reading lamp," he promised.


End file.
